Chapter 4: Breaking Bread

Before long, he saw the distorted shape of the Broker returning through the translucent walls of his habitat, and she made her way through the force field. Wrapped in her tentacles was some kind of foil bag about the size and shape of a baguette.

She placed it on the end of the table and began to unwrap it, using all four arms in tandem. Inside were several sealed plastic containers, almost like takeout boxes, and she began to separate them into two piles with the same finesse. It was mesmerizing just watching her handle objects, her flexible tentacles moving with such fluidity.

David reached over to pick one of them up, waiting for permission before trying to pop open the lid. He struggled to find purchase, as it was completely flush, and there wasn’t even room for him to get his fingernails into the seam. Frustrated, he passed it back to his guide. She placed the flat of her hand on the lid, then simply popped it off, using her suckers to grip it. It wasn’t designed to be levered open with a finger – it was made for Brokers. Fascinating. Even Borealans and Valbarans had hands with fingers and thumbs, and their tools were familiar enough to be intuitive, but not so for the Brokers.

She passed the open container back to him, and he glanced inside it. He had expected a strong seafood smell, but there was nothing but a sealed bag. It was transparent, and inside was something about the size of a sub sandwich wrapped in what looked like seaweed. When he picked it up, he realized that the bag was filled with fluid. Of course – it would usually be eaten underwater, and perhaps their lunch would float away like a birthday balloon if it wasn’t weighed down with something.

“How do you cook this stuff underwater?” he asked, weighing the sloshing bag suspiciously.

“We have many means of cooking our food,” she replied, opening one of her containers. “Some food is eaten raw.”

“Sashimi,” he added with a nod. “Sliced raw fish is considered a delicacy in some Earth cultures. Oysters, too.”

“We sterilize some food with microwave radiation. Others, we boil in a sealed vessel that insulates it from the surrounding water, though that is a rather archaic method. This particular dish was prepared by sealing it inside that pouch along with its seasonings, then cooking it for a comparatively long period of time at a low temperature.”

“You’re telling me that this is sous vide?” he chuckled. “We use that method on Earth, usually for meat. I guess it makes sense – that would be a practical way to prepare something underwater. The low temperature would prevent the water outside the container from scalding the cook.”

“We also do some cooking on land,” she explained, watching as he searched for a way to open the bag. “Food prepared at the surface is considered a delicacy. Sun-baked dishes and those charred over an open flame are traditionally reserved for those of high status and cannot be transported below water easily.”

“So, your idea of a fancy restaurant is having a barbecue on the beach?” he asked. “Does that mean that eating above the water is a special occasion for you?”

“We do have some restaurants with rooms similar to this one,” she explained, gesturing to the habitat. “Albeit, the customer is usually partially submerged, while the dining table is above water.”

David chuckled to himself, imagining a group of Brokers sitting around a table in a moon pool, passing around grilled meat.

“Well, you’re welcome to eat with me if you want the authentic restaurant experience,” he added as he succeeded in splitting the bag. He cursed, moving it over the container, watching it fill with fish-scented fluid. When he picked out the food, he was surprised to find that it didn’t feel waterlogged, and it was still tangibly warm. As he began to peel away the dark green, seaweed-like wrap, the Broker clicked her beak in disapproval.

“It is to be eaten with the water weed,” she chided.

“I guess this protects whatever’s inside if you open it underwater?”

“Indeed,” she replied.

He took a moment to scan the food with the sensor that was built into his wrist device, the computer checking that there were no dangerous compounds, and it came back clean. With a shrug, he dove in, holding it like a sandwich as he took a large bite. The wrap had a nice crunch to it, along with a briny umami flavor. His teeth sank into something soft and fleshy, the distinct taste of lobster or maybe king crab filling his mouth. When he looked down, he saw that the wrap was filled with pale meat – likely from some form of crustacean. It was the size of a steak, so maybe it had come from something akin to the sheep-sized lobster that he had seen in the reef.

“Holy shit, that’s actually really good,” he exclaimed as he took another eager bite. “It’s a little salty for my taste, but you could serve this in a seafood restaurant, and nobody would bat an eye. And you were gonna have me eating nutrient paste,” he added as he chewed. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“I have never seen a human ... eat,” she muttered, her coloration hard to read. “You have so many teeth.”

“Thirty-two, to be exact,” he replied. “Well, I have thirty because I had two wisdom teeth removed. How do you eat?” he asked as he turned in his seat to watch her. “Come on – let’s have it.”

“You wish to watch me eat?”

“Don’t throw stones in glass habitats,” he said, the Broker merely flashing confused patterns.

She popped open one of the containers – perhaps she had simply doubled the order – and lifted out the bag, holding it with the suckers on one tentacle. With another, she sliced it open, David recoiling in alarm. Like a cat unsheathing its claws, a black hook rose from within one of the suckers on her hand, cutting through the plastic like a blade. She cocked her head at him when she noticed his reaction, lifting the hand in question and extending all of her claws, transforming the gentle appendage into a wicked medieval weapon.

“Oh, that is just wrong,” he hissed as he shrank back into his chair. “Why didn’t you tell me you were packing fish hooks?”

“They are retractable,” she explained, the pattern of pastel colors that swept across her skin suggesting that she was amused. “They are for gripping prey and other slippery objects.”

“You could flay someone alive with those things,” he said, keeping his eyes on them warily. “Remind me to be more polite in the future.”

She wrapped the meat in two of her hands, bringing it to her mouth, David watching curiously as her full lips parted to reveal a beak. It was as black as onyx and shiny like lacquer, with upper and lower halves that overlapped to form scything blades. She cut off a mouthful of the lobster meat like someone punching a hole in a piece of paper, giving David a vivid example of how her species dealt with hard-shelled crabs. There was an alarming amount of power in those jaws. At least that explained why she had such prominent lips to begin with – they must protect her beak in the same way that his protected his teeth.

“Now that I’ve been suitably horrified, we can continue our meal,” he said cheerfully as he took another bite. “What do we have in the way of sides?”

“Traditionally, we should have started with the raw meat dish,” she explained. “That container there,” she added, gesturing with one of her free tentacles.

He set the wrap down on the table, using the lid of its container as an impromptu plate, fumbling with another of the tupperwares. His cheeks warming again, he passed it to the Broker, who made an impressive show of multitasking as she opened it for him. This one was filled with tightly-packed slices of raw fish, the pink, salmon-like meat so tender that it was almost translucent.

“My kingdom for a lemon slice,” he said, popping one of them into his mouth. “Man, that just melts on the tongue. You know, I get the feeling I’m going to enjoy my stay here a lot more than I thought. Sushi and lobster bechamel on tap suits me just fine.”

“Many of these words are not in my translator’s library,” she complained, but David waved his hand dismissively.

“Let’s just say that I’m as happy as a clam right now.”

“You are doing this on purpose,” she grumbled, taking another bite of her meat as she glared at him. Remembering her vicious beak, he straightened in his chair a little, turning his attention back to his meal.

“It’s nice to share dinner with you,” he said, nodding to the food containers that were strewn across the left side of the table. “Humans like to bond over food – it’s just something that we do.”

“We are not so ... social,” she added.

“Aren’t we having fun?” he asked, leaning back in his seat as he lowered another piece of raw fish into his mouth. “Speaking of which – I think I’ve come up with a suitable name for you.”

“Must you?” she groaned with a disapproving click of her beak.

“I promise it’s not demeaning,” he added quickly. “Especially now that I’ve discovered how, uh... armed you are. Selkie. Has a nice ring to it, right?”

“What does it mean?” she asked suspiciously, her coloration darkening. “There is no such term in my database.”

“It’s a sea creature from ancient Earth mythology,” he explained, popping something that looked like a shelled shrimp into his mouth. “Celtic, to be precise. They wore animal pelts to disguise themselves, kind of like you and your exosuit.”

“Very well,” she sighed. “You may call me Selkie if it puts the discussion to rest.”

“And you can call me David,” he replied. “I’ve noticed that you guys have a tendency to refer to me by my full name and title. Although, Doctor is also good,” he added with a shrug. “I didn’t get that PhD just because I think the certificate looks nice on my wall.”

“Do you always talk so incessantly when you eat?” she asked.

“I’m just enjoying the cultural exchange,” he replied, popping another juicy shrimp into his mouth. “I wanted to ask you something,” he continued, his tone becoming more serious. “I get the impression that you and the Administrator don’t exactly see eye to eye, and it hasn’t escaped my attention that this whole scenario seems to have been set up as an elaborate means to punish you. I know that you don’t want me here in your apartment, nor do you want me getting my grubby mammalian fingers anywhere near your project. So, what happened? What did you do that’s made him so vindictive?”

Selkie took another bite of her lobster meat, crunching the seaweed wrap in her beak as she pondered the question, her coloration turning a blotchy maroon.

“I suppose that you will find out soon enough,” she began, the skin on her mantle wrinkling almost like a frown. “My team was working on classified military technology under the supervision of the Administrator – a software upgrade for his drone fleet. It was to be a secret, and something that would help propel his company to the forefront of the industry, giving him an advantage over his rivals. When the situation was no longer under control and I could not resolve the problem, he was forced to go to the Board for help. In doing so, he exposed the project and drew their ire in the process.”

“I see,” David mused, sampling another piece of fish. “That must have put a damper on his plans. He blames you, and now he’s making it his mission to make your life hell. Sorry that I have to be a part of it,” he added.

“You did not know,” she sighed, though he didn’t get the impression that she was any happier about her new living situation. “He has no legal grounds to demand restitution, as I did nothing that was beyond the scope of my contract, but he still seeks a means to punish me for my perceived transgression.”

“Kind of like your boss taking away your corner office and making you stare at a brick wall,” David said with a nod. “Well, hopefully we can get the situation resolved quickly, and you can put it behind you.”

“I very much doubt that,” she replied, looking him up and down disdainfully. Clearly, she had no confidence in his abilities. He was curious about the drone software and what exactly had gone so awry, but he would be getting a full briefing tomorrow, according to the Administrator.

“Why not just quit your job if you’re being mistreated?” he asked, polishing off the last of the sashimi. “Man, this stuff is good.”

“As I said, I am under contract,” she replied as though that was an explanation unto itself.

“What else do we have here?” he continued, sifting through the remaining boxes. “Anything for dessert?”

“You might enjoy these seagrass seedlings,” she said, cracking open another container. This one was filled with a small sachet of green, vaguely almond-shaped fruits.

He opened the little bag and plucked one out, finding that it was squishy like a grape or a prune. When he bit into it gingerly, he discovered that it was surprisingly salty, with a sweet aftertaste that reminded him of salted caramel. Each one had a nut inside that must be the seed, which was like the hard pit of a peach. Perhaps the species sent these fruits floating into the ocean to be carried away by the current or eaten by animals.

“Not bad at all,” he mused.

She popped one of the seeds into her mouth, David wincing as he heard her beak crack the nut. He was surprised to see the six tentacles that were spaced around her face grip a second seed as she turned her attention to one of the containers, holding it in place as she began to eat. So, not only did they control the spread of her veil-like blankets, but they could be used to manipulate food. It wasn’t hard to imagine her holding a struggling crab in her face-tentacles as she cracked open its shell.

“Isn’t it nicer to share a meal with someone rather than eating alone?” he asked. “This apartment is enormous – it must get lonely here.”

“We do not experience loneliness as you do,” she replied. “And this living space may be lavish by your standards, but not by ours. It is sufficient, but not what any Broker aspires to.”

“And, what do you aspire to?” he pressed as he dropped one of the pits back into the box of fruit. “A little cottage by the beach, perhaps?”

“Homes closer to the surface, such as in the reefs or lagoons, belong to those of great means and high status. We do not necessarily choose to live in the depths so far from natural light and in such ... dense urban centers, but there is no room for towers and cities amongst the corals.”

“You said that you evolved in that environment,” he continued, finishing off the last morsels of his meal. “You hunted crabs in rock pools, so you must have lived close to the surface. It follows that living so far down must be unnatural for you.”

“You should rest,” she added, starting to collect the empty containers with her four arms. “We are expected at the facility in seven of your hours, and you have not yet begun your rest cycle. I am also ... drying out,” she added as she turned to the door. “I will wake you shortly before we are scheduled to leave.”

He watched her scuttle through the force field, then closed his laptop, appraising the bed once more. It would be hard to sleep with all of the day’s excitement still fresh in his mind, but he wanted to be rested and ready for what he assumed was going to be a tour of the research facility tomorrow. It was time to find out what had gone so wrong that the Brokers had called the UN for help...

David woke to his alarm, deactivating it with a voice command. The lights outside his little dome were just as bright as when he had gone to sleep. Living on a planet with no day and night cycle was going to take some getting used to.

He slid out of bed, stretching as he yawned, then walked over to his lockers to retrieve his suit. As he opened one of the doors, movement caught his eye, and he glanced up to see something clinging to the outside of the habitat. It looked like the belly of a slug – the creature hard to make out through the distortion, but it was almost the length of his forearm. It suddenly lifted off the dome, flitting away through the water, a shiver crawling down his spine.

“You are awake?”

David almost jumped out of his skin, turning to see Selkie standing by the force field.

“Y-yeah, I set my alarm,” he replied. Realizing that he was only wearing a tank top and his shorts, he made a rather futile attempt to cover himself, the Broker watching him curiously. “Maybe knock next time?”

“My apologies,” she replied, keeping her eyes on him all the same. “My people have no need of clothing, and modesty is not a concern of ours.”